Dungeon's Finest Patron
by Frei
Summary: Featuring some of the Arisen's special ways of dealing with the idiocies that are Gran Soren's citizenry.


Lord Julien was leaving his room when he spied upon the Arisen and Mercedes locked in deep conversation. As usual, the Commander of the Enlistment Corps was hanging about near the small dining table a few hops from the stairs—Such was the pastime of an idle person, he thought—but the foreign noble thought that the Arisen was far above gossiping with the fair sex in shadowy alcoves. With a disappointed sigh, the knight realized that he had no choice but to pass their way seeing that the Dragonsbane was leaving from his Solar—To walk by the Duke was a taboo of etiquette, to be sure, and he needed no light shone upon him what with his already murky allegiance.

"'Twas a horrid thing to call you, and I understand why you were wroth. Still… Let us have no more of these rash actions in the future, Ser," Lord Julien couldn't stop himself from paying attention when he heard Mercedes chastise the other man in a worried tone. Though he fancied himself a person who had but naught concern for leisurely trappings, it was quite hard to feign disinterest when the Arisen, in all his young glory, flared up.

"'Twas not his calling me an insolent bumpkin what set me off so, but the way he called Cassardis a "dirty little hovel"! No man, lord or vassal, has the right to insult my hometown, and in such derogatory terms too!" He cried out passionately, and by the Maker's own eye, Lord Julien swore that for a brief moment the Arisen's face turned the same shade as his crimson daggers. Truly, were the woman in front of him a scarecrow, she might've been reduced to mere scraps of hay by the way he gripped the handles of his weapons ever so tightly.

"Might I ask what has happened here to cause our hero such … rage?" The knight decided to involve himself in the conversation rather than stay on the wings and eavesdrop… although judging from the prior outburst, it was already easy to see what the cause was. Ser Mercedes turned a relieved gaze at him—It was quite evident that she desperately wanted someone to bear the Arisen's wrath along with her— and said, "Our warrior here has had his fair share of visits to the dungeons, and Ser Maximillian has asked my assistance to waylay him from this self-destructive course."

Lord Julien turned to the subject and raised an eyebrow. The Arisen grimaced and crossed his pale arms over his chest, all of a sudden caught with a fervent interest of viewing an ant make its journey across the stone floor. The Commander sighed and shook her head, "Well, he's the habit of … throwing people off precarious ledges. One of the, er, victims, Sir Hennings, was it? Uh… He fell from the second tier of the aqueducts. 'Twas by sheer luck that the only thing he broke was his arm… and his nose."

"That's the one who sneered at the pawn legion, said they were naught but trouble and such— He's lucky I didn't order my pawn to sweep him up in a maelstrom. Oh fie, I didn't tackle him off the bridge! I merely punched him, which gave his nose a right crook, and pudgy oaf that he is, the man lost his balance," The young man countered fiercely and it was all the knight could do to keep himself from laughing. Truth to be told he's had it up to his ears with the guards here in Gran Soren—What they lacked in skill they made up for in overbearing pride. Though there were few exceptions to the rule, like good Ser Max, it was still irritating to see such loons sauntering about the capital. What he withheld from in fear of social misconduct was something that the Arisen took care of with his own two hands… Although now he could see why they had to pull the young man from these actions.

"Wait, Ser. You haven't heard the other story!" Mercedes cried out. It was quite obvious that she found the next tales quite funny for her solemn expression mellowed into one clearly on the verge of chortling wildly at another's expense. Lord Julien tilted his head in curiosity, now too amused with the Arisen's methods to remember how he dearly loathed idling time away with chatter. From the corner of his eye he could see two maids clumped together but ignored it for their actions did not seem to carry any import. Still, weren't the three of them all alone earlier? Now it seemed as though more people occupied the area, which accounted for all the shuffling and whispering.

The young woman cleared her throat and began, "Just the day afore, Feste—"

The mention of the wretched fool's name brought an unpleasant hum through the small crowd which now dominated the gathering area. Julien scowled and noted that the Arisen had the same negative expression scrawled across his own face.

She continued, though a smirk was playing on her lips, "Feste was acting of some sorts around the throne—The Duke just retired to his Solar by that time—and I confess it was quite a funny sight seeing him do all sorts of silly poses, though he might not have done so had he known someone was to pass by. However, as he was imitating a disgruntled person with his face all wrinkled up like a prune and his arms raised, a burst of ice—shot—down from the second floor. And when I say 'burst of ice' I meant a long, curved spire the size of a wooden chest."

A lively set of guffaws burst from the audience and a smile was creeping up on Lord Julien's face.

"The jester was frozen, I need not tell you, and it took quite a long time to melt him from the ice. Meanwhile, the others," Ser Mercedes pointedly implied but her face told more than enough that she had her fill of laughter too, "Had a grand time sniggering at his … appearance, especially our dear Arisen 'ere he was escorted to the dungeons by a beet-red Ser Jakob."

The Arisen looked quite smug when he quipped, "No doubt Feste found himself in dire need of a good _icebreaker_."

Lord Julien painfully rearranged his features to look the tiniest bit appalled. "Ah, but you are not ashamed of your actions?" He asked in disbelief and was met with a quick shake of the head.

"'Twas a truly terrible hat," The young man responded grimly and the two knights remembered his first day come to court, "Besides, it took quite the time to plan that prank. I admit, I would've preferred having more people around to witness the event, but… I didn't want to be outdone by some fop wearing tight red clothing, and so I took the only available chance afore my conscience could tell me otherwise."

"I fear I'm going to have to agree with Ser Mercedes on this one, Arisen. 'Tis an unsightly thing for a hero to do, and damaging to both parties besides," The knight murmured while the woman nodded seriously, though the Maker knows they'd both be chuckling within the confines of their respective rooms sometime later. "Ugh, even you too, Lord Julien?" The Cassardi male paled and then sighed, the faintest glimmer of defeat weaving through his emerald eyes, when of all the rotten luck Fedel happened to pass by.

"Ah, the Arisen. I knew I smelled something fishy about," The chamberlain all-too-loudly exclaimed, eyes too wide and grin too irritating to appear innocent of the snarky comment about the young man's former livelihood, though truth be told the Cassardi native reeked nothing but an air of adventure, if that could even be considered a scent. Lord Julien and Mercedes both had varying expressions of surprise—Where the golden-haired knight winced and readied himself for the bloodshed which was to befall the pig of a court official, the woman visibly turned a lighter shade and stealthily swiveled her head back and forth Fedel and their other companion.

The Arisen quickly recovered and turned his lips up in a cocky smirk, then spread his hands out as if caught stealing pie from the larder. "Indeed, and we fishermen know a worm when we see one," He replied saucily, earning stunned looks from the entire audience, which amazingly now included all of the castle servants. When the disgraced chamberlain finished stuttering and fled to the confines of his room while the servants also dispersed after a few chuckles, the Arisen turned towards the two foreign knights. His eyes were wide with breathless wonder as he said, "Why, this feels even better than socking the fools in the face!"

* * *

A few days later Lord Julien found himself desperately wishing to be quit of the Duke's demesne. He so needed some fresh air from the stagnantly stuffy air of the castle and its preposterous occupants (especially that damning jester), and thus exited the place in order to roam Gran Soren for a while. When he was but a few steps past the merchant Fournival's manor, the knight found himself face to face with a dismal Ser Maximillian, who was repeatedly hitting his forehead with his palm.

"Ser…? What seems to be the problem here?" Julien asked in alarm. It took a rare thing for the Captain of the Wyrm Hunt to be so vexed, but when he raised his head to look towards the direction Ser Max pointed his finger to, he saw why.

"SO THE _PAWNS_, FAITHFUL COMPANIONS OF THE ARISEN, AREN'T EVER INCLUDED IN THE SCRIPTURES, HUH!?"

The all-too-familiar yell was accompanied by shocked gasps and a horrified shriek as the citizenry scampered out of the cathedral.

"THE PAWN LEGION DOESN'T DESERVE THE MAKER'S GRACE, EH!? IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE TELLING ME!? THAT AND THEY DESERVE NO QUARTER FROM YOU TOO?! OBNOXIOUS LOUT! _YOU CALL YOURSELF A MAN OF THE FAITH_!? I MAY BE A SIMPLE FISHERMAN, _BUT I KNOW AUGHT BETTER_!"

Lord Julien watched in mute horror as the Arisen, followed by his embarrassed pawns, ran out the open church doors with a monk slung over his shoulder. The poor brother was trying his best to escape from the enraged man's hold, but truly, there was no coming out of what was going to happen next.

He just hoped the Arisen had thought to purchase a spare skeleton key.


End file.
